Closure
by Desert.Moon
Summary: The Titans have long since been disbanded. They're reuniting in a dilapidated building none of them have any business setting foot in. Even the original members are there. Well, four of five. And none of them really want closure, but it's all they'll get.
1. Reunion

A/N: This is based on a dream I had last night. I haven't seen any Teen Titans in an age, so please forgive any fact/character failure. D: I'm working off faint memories and a fading dream. (:

Set in an AU future, where the Teen Titans have expanded and subsequently disbanded. The main character is no one in particular, merely someone invented for the story. I make no claim to any characters I did not create.

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The face of the old public library—not so much a building as a storefront shoved between a raucous music shop and a boarded up Mexican restaurant—radiated such a forbidding air that she didn't doubt why it had been so unpopular. Dank and dingy swarmed around her in an almost tangible cloud before she even reached the door.

It occurred to her to wonder at the choice. Why here, of all places, for this?

Then again, Titans Tower'd been closed out for ages. It's not like they could have met there; the whole place would likely have collapsed.

Well, maybe they couldn't find any other abandoned places that would let them in. Although that restaurant next door looked slightly larger.

After glancing up and down the empty street, she stepped forward and pressed her fingers against the splintery, soft wood of the door. A rusted bell clattered faintly as the door swung open, reminding her more of an old bookstore than a library. Vacant shelves provided homes to layered cakes of dust and cobwebs rather than books, and she would have left footprints in the grime on the floor had so many people not already been there.

Following a murmur of sound, she moved through a doorway beside the former checkout desk, now forlorn and foreboding as a sacrificial stone. Finally, she found the people.

There were—wow, a lot of them. All crowded around one table, it seemed, crushed together to give everyone room. Some were talking animatedly, some apparently reminiscing quietly. Some just sat in silence, looking sad. It was strange; it didn't seem so long ago. Hell, they were almost all still teenagers; it _wasn't _that long ago.

She recognized maybe two people in this crowd—no, three. But none of the original members were here—these were all those who had come after, who had 'joined the club' later. All these kids just trying to save the world. She didn't know them; she'd come before. Not that she'd been around from the beginning—no, she just signed up early on, and left too soon to meet anyone new.

Only a few people noticed her come in, standing there decked out in dark hair and apparent normality. It was funny: Most of them had come back in costume. Here she was in jeans, slinking in like a girl who'd gotten lost, or hadn't gotten the notice that the library had packed up and moved away.

A couple disengaged themselves from their conversations to get up and welcome her; one or two just waved her over to join the reunion. Nobody recognized her, of course. But half these kids didn't even know who the five original members _were_—the Teen Titans had spread that far.

Not that they'd lasted.

"I'm—from the original group," she told the couple when they asked which 'generation' she hailed from—though once the teen superheroes started streaming in, generation breaks grew blurry and uncertain. They looked excited, eyes alight—these two were younger, she could tell by their glowing faces and unbroken hope—and tugged her back to the table. The news spread—not quite a lie and not quite the truth, but she'd been of a time before generations anyway—around the group, so no one else asked her.

Actually, no one even asked her name, so buoyed were they by news of an original member in their tagalong follow-up crowd. Or maybe they were playing guessing games, trying to deduce her name from her appearance. She would have liked that one, had this been a cheerier time. Had she a friend here to play it with.

After the brief flurry of excitement dulled, she extracted herself from the mob and slunk toward the wall. Pressing herself between two grey-streaked bookshelves as if she could blend in—not her power—she just watched. Watched, and tried not to cry.

Why cry? There was nothing to cry for.

Ten minutes passed before someone walked toward her, black-haired and apparently blind, though he walked toward her with ease. Halting, he stared at her for a second with blank eyes, then, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder, said, "The original members congregate in the back room. Maybe that is where you want to be."

Without waiting for an answer, he turned around and strode away. She watched a moment, then followed the direction of his thumb with her gaze. A dark hole of a doorway, looking more like it led to a tunnel than a room, gaped at her from beyond the teeming round table.

Well—what the hell. Maybe she did want to be there. Maybe she needed to be there. Edging past the shelves, streaking her clothes with thick grey dust as she pressed up against them, she set her sights on the door. Maybe she'd find—

What, closure? Isn't that what people usually wanted when they came to these things? That, or a return to the past. That was what most of the kids back at the table wanted. They hoped this would be enough to bring the Teen Titans back.

Well, not today.

Glancing back at the halfway happy mob in the dank dusty room, she slipped into the back room.

It looked more like an unused barroom than anything else, and she speculated again, idly, how this had ever been a library. Maybe it'd been a reading room, then; now it only had one table, small and round and darkened with age until it was just grey. It looked on the verge of falling apart.

And there they were. Robin, Starfire, Cyborg, Beast Boy—everyone except Raven. They slouched around the table like weary drunks, and she started to wish she hadn't come. Only Starfire tried to engage her friends in conversation, but she received one-word answers at best, though Beast Boy did offer one feeble joke. Eventually, green eyes flashing with worry and dejection, the alien girl subsided.

"Hey, guys," the intruder managed in a quiet, almost inaudible voice. She inspired an actual reaction; they all four roused themselves to respond with a greeting—"good to see you" and "long time, no see."

But after that, it was almost as if they forgot she was there. So overcome by the weight of losing their purpose, they probably hadn't even really recognized her.

She stood there and tried to say something. The words stuck in her throat like vomit, thick and sour. Her mouth twitched, soundless, lips open and closed without success.

Struck by the utter desolation of the cluster before her, the oh-so-happy reunion in this dingy deserted room, she turned and fled. She needed to find Raven now.


	2. Adventure

She wandered a crowded street with no direction in mind, scuffing her feet on the pavement until the light started to fade and the reunion must have been long over. Well, who knew. Maybe some of those young hopefuls were still hanging around, trying to persuade each other to restart their little 'club.' But the Teen Titans needed to be more than a club to be the Titans.

She actually had no idea where to find the missing Titan. All she knew was that there were foster parents involved—and how that had happened to a Teen Titan, especially Raven of all people, she still couldn't be sure.

A red and yellow disk, probably four inches across, whizzed past her ear, thudding into the dreary concrete of a building. Turning, she saw Robin walking towards her, towards her, past her to retrieve it. He didn't see her—at least, didn't identify her. And it was like he was invisible to the rest of the street, too; no one noticed his worn costume or tattered mask. In a world of this much color, a few more fading hues didn't stand out.

Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring people pushing around her, she watched him as he walked away. And without warning, without preliminary sniffles, she began to cry, to sob violently, eyes scrunched up and hot tears seeping over her face.

No one stopped, though a few people cast her looks of disgust, but apparently Robin heard her. Even 'retired,' he still couldn't seem to resist helping someone, because he was walking back toward her now.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he came close. She sniffed, took a deep breath, dragged a hand across her face.

"Bad day," she said, trying to muster a laugh. It turned into a cough.

"Hey, you're—" he began, a hint of recognition dawning on his face.

"Yeah," she acknowledged, scrubbing pale tear-streaks from her skin. They didn't seem to want to go away. "Hi."

"Hi," he echoed, then sighed and ran a gloved hand through a nest of black hair. "Bad day for all of us."

She made a sound, half chuckle, half snort. "Maybe you didn't spend a whole lot of time in the other room. Best day of some of their lives. Those kids're all for bringing the Titans back together."

With a hint of derision masking a hint of despair, he said, "Like that'll ever happen."

Neither of them seemed to know what to say after that. Instead of standing there awkwardly, he grabbed her wrist and steered her out of the path of oncoming people, so they were positioned on the edge of the sidewalk, really too close to rushing cars for comfort. The metal creations screamed by, leaving blistering smoke and choking behind.

"I'm looking for Raven," she said finally, looking slightly to the side of his head rather than into his eyes. He looked uncomfortable, more nervous than he ever had as leader. He couldn't really be normal if he tried.

"A lot of people stopped looking for Raven a long time ago."

With a dip of her head, she acknowledged, "I was one of them. But I started again."

"When?"

She looked at her wrist as if she had a watch. "A few hours ago."

He was silent. He wasn't looking at her. Finally, he asked, "What's your power? You're not in-costume, so I can't tell."

So he still didn't know her; at least, not out-of-costume. She felt a stab of disappointment. Costume, she always hated to call it that. As if they were all kids on Halloween. Rather than answer, she shrugged. "Guess you'll have to guess, then. Don't you like that game?"

He accepted her evasion with further silence. She didn't know what to do if he wasn't going to help her. She couldn't wait here in this fugue.

As she mustered the courage to walk away, he said quietly, "I'm not going after Raven." Before she could respond, he added, "I can tell you her foster parents' names."

"I'll find them," she agreed.

Adopting the tone he'd once used to issue orders to his team, Robin let out a stream of directions that showed he surely hadn't forgotten Raven as well as he'd tried to pretend. They told her precisely how to reach Raven's last-known address, but Robin had reached the end of the list while she was still processing the first two lines. Memorization wasn't her power either.

"Sorry," she said. "I got exactly none of that."

He stared at her for a moment. Then: "Heck, I've never backed down. I'll show you."

She wasn't sure if she wanted that. She'd seen him already, in his corner and his despair. She'd seen him and the others. Now she just needed to see Raven and she could let it go.

But, he did look marginally lighter at the thought of doing something. "Okay," she said, realizing just then how blank and even her every word had been that day. Except when she'd been crying. Could she muster no emotion for her old friends? Even if they didn't really remember her.

She forced a smile and followed him up and down impassive streets and past detached grey buildings until they reached an area more given over to housing. "Utopia Lane," she read, looking up at the sign. "It must be a good place to live."

"For her sake," he said, "I hope it is."

Hearts in their throats, they trudged up the road, eyeing each house with a critical stare. At last reaching a dull brown one with a dull brown car in the driveway, Robin stopped, and the girl stopped beside him.

"You done here?" she asked wryly, and saw him hesitate.

"No. I'll stay."

Nodding, she paced up the driveway towards the white front door. Before she'd even stepped onto the porch, two average-looking people came through the door, stopping in surprise when they saw her.

"I'm looking for Raven," she explained. "Is she here?"

"_Rachel,_" said the woman severely, as if using Raven's old name, her real name, was a crime, "is already in the car. She's moving."

The girl looked surprised. "Are you abandoning her?"

"Of course not," snapped the man. "But we can't help her anymore."

"Oh. I see." She didn't, though. "Can I see her, before you go?"

Both hesitated. Uncertainly, the woman twisted around her finger a strand of mousy brown curl. "That's not a good idea," sighed the man.

"Dear," said the woman quietly, "maybe Rachel should get to see her friends one last time."

"That's not a good idea, honey," the man repeated.

"We'll be okay," the girl said mildly, and turned to walk toward the car. Robin came forward to meet her.

"Where is she?"

"In the car. Guess she's moving."

"Just her? Not her parents?"

"They can't help her anymore."

She stopped to peer inside the car window. She didn't see anything but some curtains around the back.

Trying the door, she found it unlocked, and climbed inside. Clambering over the front seats, she grasped at the drab, dried-blood curtain and pulled it away.

On a different day, she might have shrieked. As it was, she merely fell back onto the seat, a gasp on her lips.

Raven grinned up at her, smile so wide and menacing her mouth might have been filled with shark's teeth. Her eyes, naturally so tranquil, were crazed; there were only two of them, but they shone red.

She'd been strapped in, buckled up and tied down. She thrashed wildly against her bindings, eerie grin never faltering. Overcome, the girl who was free scrambled back out of the car as the foster parents approached.

"Are you taking her to an asylum?" she asked accusingly. Neither adult would meet her eyes.

"That's as bad as abandoning her," snapped Robin, coming up behind, fury evident in his face even behind his mask.

"Not if they can help her!" cried the man, anguished.

"They can't," said Robin grimly, surely. "A family would be better."

"You didn't see her," whispered the woman. "She did. Ask her." She pointed at the girl, eyes pleading.

"We're taking her," announced the girl.

"You can't!" argued the man. "You can't help her. Doctors can."

She turned to meet Robin's masked eyes. He hesitated infinitesimally, then flung one of his disks at the feet of the parents. It exploded into smoke.

Ignoring the coughing and shouts of outrage, the girl dove back into the car, undoing every binding she could find. Raven's flailing grew more feral; her inhuman grin grew the same. With difficulty, the other tugged the former Titan from the back seat, ignoring the bruises and the cuts blooming from Raven's resistance. Robin appeared to help her, wrapping his arms around Raven's shoulders as she was pulled from the car.

The smoke was clearing. "I'll carry her," he said, and lifted the broken girl without waiting for a response. He raced off; the other girl cast a glance back at the parents, waving away a dark cloud and staring after their shattered daughter.


	3. End

"Did you have a plan?" demanded Robin, a safe distance away from the foster parents' home, slowing to a walk and clutching more tightly to Raven's thrashing form. "Where can we take her? She would have been better off at the asylum."

"You don't mean that," said the other girl. They were all ignoring the stares of the people around him, whose wide-eyed gazes were drawn to the flailing grinning girl.

He stared down at the girl in his arms. "I don't." He didn't need to confirm it; she already knew. He was tired. He wanted his family back, too.

"Maybe she needs to go home," suggested the other. "Maybe it'll help."

"Titans Tower has been locked up for ages," he contradicted, knowing immediately that she meant Raven's real home and not Azarath. "And she—she was on the verge of—" He made a miserable gesture toward her with his head. "—of this even back home. And—" His rage was building, his fury at what had been done to everything he'd known and cared for.

"And you've seen it," he finished. "Hard to miss, isn't it? The place is broken down and empty. There's nothing left to be home. She wouldn't even recognize it."

Well, thought the other girl, no one even recognized her. But that really didn't stop her from being who she was.

Maybe it did, though.

"Still, I think we should take her home."

He didn't argue further, only carried Raven on. The other girl followed still, observing poor broken Raven in silence. She was dressed in the same leotard as always, wearing the same chain belt, though cloakless; but the outfit was rumpled and torn slightly, and tiny injuries covered the girl's ashen skin, as if she'd had to fight to keep it.

They reached the tower and went up and up and up until they entered the cross of the T. Robin turned one way to take Raven to the place that had once been her room, but the girl turned the other, to stand at a broken window and look out over the sparkling expanse of water. The glassy surface shone too bright for this day.

"Come here," ordered Robin from down the hall, and as if out of habit, she obeyed. Slipping into the pressing darkness of Raven's room, she strained to see through the gloom. Night vision wasn't her power either.

Robin held up a little glowing orb, one of all his gadgets, revealing himself to be standing beside the bed. There were only tattered remnants of sheets, and the mattress leaked stuffing, but in the familiar place, Raven had finally calmed. At least, her eyes had closed, and she only trembled instead of thrashed. But even in sleep, the insane grin lingered on her pale face, and the other girl had to look away.

"What generation of Titan are you?"

"Oh," she replied uncertainly. "I'm—from the original group."

"No you're not," he disagreed, tone surprisingly mild, if shocked at her reply. "There are only five of us. And you aren't one of them."

"I know," she said. "But that's what I have to say. I came alone, don't you remember? And left early. I'm not a generation." She trained her eyes to the floor. "I don't even know if I qualify as a Titan."

"No one qualifies as a Titan anymore," said Robin.

"No," she agreed. "I don't suppose anyone does. That's why so many people came to the reunion. Why did you come? You've gotten nothing out of it. I saw."

He looked at Raven. She braved a glance. Maybe that smile looked lesser. "We'll make her okay," asserted Robin, as if saying it would make it true.

"Oh, not we," said the other girl. "Well, not me. You'll make her okay. I've had my reunion. I'm not staying."

"I remember you now," he said. He looked at her, but she wouldn't look at him.

"And now," she replied, "I've had my closure."


End file.
